Some Secret Delight
by Katta
Summary: Katherine wants to hate Miss Anne Shirley, but her true feelings are much more complicated.


_Author's Note: This follows the canon of the TV series rather than of __Anne of Windy Poplars_, primarily to fit the scenes in _before_ Anne is engaged to Gilbert.

* * *

Katherine Brooke was not a well-liked teacher, but she was competent. She set up the rules and followed them strictly, and at the end of each school year she had managed to bludgeon some knowledge into the frilly heads of all her spoiled schoolgirls. Not much, in some cases, but enough to secure their place in the world and satisfy both parents and board. Anything more would have been above and beyond the call of duty, and she had no intention of going there.

And then there was Miss Anne Shirley, who insisted on treating English Literature as if it was her own personal fairy land. Miss Shirley with her smiles and jokes, her disregard of rules, and her determination to make everyone like her, even the Pringles. God, how Katherine resented that little trollop. Every time Miss Shirley took another "romantic" flight of fancy, Katherine had to clench her fists so hard her trimmed nails left marks in her palms. She hated that smug, radiant smile, the glittering eyes, the pale cheeks, the rich red locks, and the way just thinking about them made Katherine's mouth go dry and her heart beat faster.

Miss Shirley had _no idea_ what it was like when every day was like the next, when at the end of it you went to sleep in a narrow, lonely bed, knowing that there was nothing to look forward to, that the longing for a warm body next to yours would always remain a longing. Katherine told herself that she hated Miss Shirley – she _wanted_ to hate her. Hate was so much easier than this strange mix of emotion, and having to blush in shame and anger every time she washed her undergarments.

Miss Shirley made the world seem like a beautiful place, and Katherine like a bee on a window pane, mere inches and a sheet of unbreakable glass away from the loveliness.

It was fortunate that Miss Shirley had such a knack for getting herself into trouble. For quite some time, Katherine held on to the hope that she would be fired; indeed, it seemed impossible to imagine any other future. But as easily as Miss Shirley got into trouble, as easily she slipped out of it again. When Jen Pringle called in sick and jeopardized the play, Katherine felt the bittersweet taste of victory, thinking for sure that she could soon go back to her drab life before Miss Shirley. She should have known that the blasted woman would land on her feet as always.

She was doomed to keep seeing that world beyond the glass, and found it bitter as death.

And then that invitation to Green Gables – that kind-hearted, silly invitation. Oh, Anne – Anne! Couldn't she recognize a poor bee when she saw it? Or was she really fool enough to believe herself capable of setting it free?

"An outburst of charity! I'm hardly a candidate for that yet." She wanted to kick herself, even as she spoke the bitter words, but anything was better than demeaning herself by saying yes.

Something flared up in those green eyes. "Katherine Brooke, whether you know it or not, what you want is a darn good spanking."

The words were so similar to what Katherine had been thinking that she couldn't help smiling. The strangest part was that while Anne sounded angry, she _didn't_ sound resigned. Katherine realized that the offer still stood, regardless of what she might say. But she must be mistaken. Everyone had their limits, and no one put up with her for long. It would take the patience of a saint, or the foolishness... the foolishness of an Anne Shirley. Katherine could believe just about anything of her, and that belief alone made her accept. As soon as she'd said the words, she wanted to take them back, but Anne's smile kept her quiet. That smile, directed at her, was something she wanted to see as long as she possibly could.

That night, before bedtime, she opened the geography textbook to the passage on India and studied the Taj Mahal closely, letting her fingers run down its form. Somehow it didn't feel so far away, though it was strangely muddled in her mind with the idea of a PEI farmhouse, and a smiling face by the fire.

* * *

Katherine regretted her decision a little less every day. Before the journey, she regretted it immensely, and the only thing that stopped her from cancelling was the knowledge that if she did, her miserable life would no longer be something that had just happened, but a choice. That was a thought she couldn't bear, and so she packed her bags, telling herself not to hope too much.

During the train ride, she alternated between a fervous joy at the views outside and company beside her, and a desperate wish to pull the emergency brake. Wouldn't that be something, the stern Miss Brooke making such a spectacle of herself!

"Katherine, do put down your bag," Anne begged of her. "Your hands must be cramping up. I have seen statues move more than you've done in the past hour."

Katherine stiffly put the bag aside, clasping her hands together instead. "Tell me again of the little pond."

"The Lake of Shining Waters," Anne responded, clearly taking girlish delight in every word. Such a silly name, but Katherine enjoyed the pleasure it brought to Anne's face. "Oh, it's so beautiful, Katherine, you could hardly believe it. I don't know that I can even describe it right..." and then she proceeded to describe it for ten minutes, and after that another of her favourite places from childhood, and another. All of them with silly, romantic names as well as their ordinary ones, and all of them sounding like Heaven on Earth, the way Anne talked them up.

"Here we are now!" Anne exclaimed, jumping off her seat when the train stopped in Bright River. "Are you very tired? I could show you all the old places if we walked. It's only eight miles. You're not too tired, are you? I've always seen you as an outdoorsy person at heart. We can leave the heavy luggage for later."

Katherine had never been an outdoorsy person in her life, except at school excursions where she made endurance into a virtue. But she was more than willing to be outdoorsy for Anne. "I'm not tired," she said. "All right, show me your old places. I shan't suppose they're as lovely as you make them out to be. Most likely, you're still seeing them with a child's eyes."

Anne laughed. "Don't play the grump today. It won't make a whit of difference. I'm _home_. After all this time, I'm finally home, and Avonlea is the most beautiful place in the world. You'll see."

* * *

There was a series of quick raps on the door and Anne stuck her head in. Her hair was down, giving her a most angelic appearance – if one could imagine a red-headed angel.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

"No," Katherine said, wrapping her half-buttoned blouse closer around her chest. Few things could have been less disturbing to her at this moment than Anne. She had been lost in thought, wondering what things would be like when she returned home, and the possibilities seemed so bleak she was grateful for the interruption. She didn't want to go back to being the feared Brooke, and here at Green Gables, it was very easy not to. When she'd first heared of Anne's early childhood, she had found it nigh impossible to believe that a maltreated little orphan could grow into this vivacious young woman, but upon deeper consideration, how could she be anything else after living here? If Katherine had been given a Green Gables... but she had the niggling suspicion such fortunate mishaps wouldn't be granted to the likes of her.

Anne slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. "You're frowning."

"I was thinking of..." She silenced, unwilling to voice her envy – it would feel like a defeat back into her old ways. "...How much I love this place."

"I'm so glad," Anne said warmly, putting her hands on Katherine's shoulders. "I wanted to let you know what a wonderful time I've had today and how happy I am that we're finally friends. We were _meant_ to be friends."

Katherine clasped her own hand over Anne's. "Thank you for trying so hard."

"I _did_ try hard," Anne said, a glint of the devil in her eyes. "But, oh Katherine, you were worth it."

She bent down to kiss Katherine's cheek. Katherine leaned into the caress, which made her blouse slide open again.

"Oh, will you look at that!" Anne said, running her finger along Katherine's collarbone. Katherine shivered in delight. "You have a neck! And what a lovely neck it is. Michelangelo would have been proud to sculpt such a neck. You have to promise me to buy some collarless dresses."

Katherine laughed in shock. "Can you imagine! The Pringles would have a fit!"

"I didn't mean in school," Anne laughed. "Obviously you have to wear decent clothes _there_. For a private occasion. You'd look so lovely."

Her hand was still teasing the edge of Katherine's bodice, and it made Katherine so woolly-minded that she turned her head upwards, gently nudged Anne's face towards her own, and gave the other woman a brief kiss on the lips. The moment she realized what she'd done, she pulled back, startled. "Oh, God!"

"I always knew there was a beating heart in there," Anne said.

"I don't know what came over me."

"It's called need." Anne kissed the corner of her mouth and started unlacing the bodice. "Human beings are meant to touch each other. If we don't, the soul starves and withers. I remember what it felt like, it was a horrible feeling, like being hungry all the time."

"Yes," Katherine said, because no food had ever been as sweet to her as the sensation of Anne's fingers on her bare skin. She wrapped Anne's red curls around her fingers, marvelling at the texture of them, and lifted the heavy tresses so that she could kiss Anne's neck and ear, trailing their shape with her lips.

Anne made a very small noise, and Katherine revelled in the knowledge that she had caused it. She felt the goosebumps forming on her flesh as Anne removed Katherine's bodice completely and started caressing her bosom beneath.

"Have you ever heard the word 'sapphic'?" Katherine asked Anne.

"Mm."

"And do you think – oh! – that there perhaps there is something sapphic to this?"

Anne giggled, kneeling down to kiss Katherine's breasts. "Shh," she said, circling the areola with the tip of her tongue.

Katherine closed her eyes. "I often thought about that word... sapphic. It seemed comforting."

"I like 'Boston marriage'," Anne said. "It sounds so refined. It would be nice to live in one, wouldn't it?"

Katherine felt a thrill at the words, but forced herself to quell the emotion. Anne was just taking a flight of fancy, as usual. It was not a serious proposition. She would take this night for what it was and not let herself be carried away to believe in something more. "Yes," she agreed. "Certainly more tolerable than the thought of any kind of union with a man. I hate the lot of them."

"I once..." Anne kept kissing Katherine's breasts as she spoke, which gave her speech a halted cadence, "hated a boy... for four years... for calling me 'carrots'. I can't imagine... hating the whole sex."

Katherine thought of the boys at school, their taunts and torments, and of her uncle who spoke to her mainly with the strap of his belt. She shuddered. "They were so vile – so horrible!"

"Katherine!" Anne said, raising her head. She was sporting an uncharacteristic frown. "Is there nothing you _love_?"

Katherine thought about it, while Anne remained still in her lap. "I love the night sky," she said at long last. "All those stars, so far away. I love the horizon. I love the ocean – and the mountains."

Anne smiled at her, which gave her the spirit to continue:

"I love the image of the Taj Mahal in the geography textbook. I love the smell of pine trees. I love Green Gables. I love your hair." She stroked it softly as she spoke of it, and then moved on to Anne's cheek. "I love your skin. I love your nose."

Anne caught Katherine's hand and kissed it. "I love your neck," Anne said, letting action follow her words by kissing it. "I love your breasts. I love your stomach. I love how you're so different from..." She broke off.

"From?" Katherine asked.

Anne stilled, and her face slowly turned pink. "Forget I said anything."

"Different from what?" Katherine insisted, more curious than anything.

"From, well, Diana."

The name rung a bell in Katherine's mind, and she mulled it over. "Mrs. Wright, Diana? The one we're seeing tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Anne bit her lip. "Does it bother you?"

It did, for a moment, but thinking about it, it made sense. Of course Anne had done this before – everything in her demeanour said so. How could Katherine possibly begrudge her the experience, when it was the source of this pleasure? She suddenly became quite interested in meeting Mrs. Wright.

"No," she said slowly, trying to imagine Anne in the arms of the other girl. "What does she look like?"

"Oh – dark, plump, beautiful."

"Nothing like me," Katherine said wistfully.

"Shyer than you," Anne smiled. "And I have the impression that you possess the most wonderful imagination."

"Well." Katherine started undoing the top hooks of Anne's dress. "I hope I can live up to your high opinion of me."

"I'm sure you can." Anne put her hand on the laces of Katherine's petticoat. "May I?"

"Of course."

Undressing Anne was an exquisite pleasure. She had not touched another woman's undergarments or naked skin since she was a child assisting her cousins, and all aspects of their personality had been so revolting to her that the act had been far from pleasant – and she had never been undressed by anyone since she'd learned to do it herself. This was new in so many ways, and every touch felt to her skin like a perfect bath, hot in winter and cool in summer.

It was remarkable that someone as skinny as Anne Shirley could be so soft. They both lay down on the bed, and she ran her hands over Anne's limbs, exploring them, though with none of the skill and agility Anne was currently using on her. Imagination, Anne had said, and perhaps it was time she used it. Remembering how she'd caress herself at night for comfort, she started by kissing the insides of Anne's wrists and then continued along the length of the arm and side of the chest, places she could only ever reach on herself with her hands, but knew to be sensitive. She ran her nails over Anne's breasts, which were thin, yet long enough that when Katherine cupped her hand around one, the underside of it filled the width of her hand. She was fascinated that the shape of them was so different from her own flatter but wider ones.

Anne, in response, started rubbing Katherine's limbs in wide circular movements, interspersed with little butterfly kisses, and then, sending a glorious rush through Katherine's whole body, she started using her tongue.

Katherine gasped and bucked against the touch, feeling the inside of her thighs wetten. Normally, this would be where she bit her lip and left her bed to wash herself, scrubbing her trembling limbs with ice cold water. Now she remained exactly where she was, and the sensation built up to a degree she would not have thought possible. Curious to know if Anne felt the same, she reached out instinctively, touching Anne's private parts and finding them just as wet. She should have been ashamed at herself, but it felt perfectly natural, and Anne pressed eagerly against her, making little noises.

Emboldened, she started stroking Anne as she had occasionally stroked herself, and Anne, gasping, guided her hand.

"Perhaps like this," Anne said, reaching for Katherine's in turn, and Katherine stilled, just living in the moment, in the swell and rise of her body.

"Yes," she said, and it came out just a little bit too loud, so she forced herself to keep silent. It would not do to be discovered.

A thought struck her, of an idea she'd once heard mentioned in veiled terms in a book on Chinese philosophy. She kept it in her head while Anne kept touching her, and later, with her body still twitching, she moved down to set it in motion, kissing first the insides of Anne's thighs, then the private parts themselves. It was a strange thing seeing them – she had never seen her own or anyone else's, and found their shape somewhat funny, but also beautiful in a way. The taste was slightly sour and not very appealing, but it was all worth it for the look on Anne's face.

"You," Anne said, giggling and gasping so that she could barely speak, "you are a creature... of most glorious imagination, Miss Brooke!"

Katherine's lips, although busy, curved in a smile, and she started humming, which made Anne squirm even more. Considering the vindicating joy of the compliment, Katherine had no intention of ever mentioning that book about Chinese philosophy.

* * *

Katherine hesitated with her hand inches away from Anne's door, and listened intently for sounds of crying. There was nothing, but that didn't comfort her – she had seen the look on Anne's face at the news of her friend's sickness.

Bracing herself, she knocked.

"Come in," Anne said from inside, her voice soft but surprisingly calm.

When Katherine stepped inside, she found that Anne looked calm too, but the wrong kind of calm, the dead, desolate kind. Frightened by the sight, Katherine shut the door and sat down on the bed next to her, kissing her hand. "Are you all right?"

Anne drew a shaky breath. "Oh, God," she said, squeezing Katherine's hand in hers. "I've made such a mess of things. Gilbert... you..."

"No, you haven't," Katherine said. "Perhaps with your Gilbert, I can't say, but you haven't made a mess of things with me. Quite the contrary."

Tears spilled over from Anne's eyes, and Katherine held her close, hushing her gently.

"No, let me cry," Anne mumbled. "Please, let me."

"All right." Katherine had never in her life comforted anyone. A few of the schoolgirls had turned to her, in the beginning, but she had rejected them, telling herself that they should learn to fend for themselves sooner or later. She patted Anne's arm, feeling utterly helpless.

"I can't believe he's... he _mustn't_ die! I don't know what to do if he dies! And after everything I said, and he said – oh, I should have never turned down his proposal!"

Katherine stiffened, and Anne's red-rimmed eyes widened. "I didn't mean..."

"It's all right," Katherine hurried to say.

Anne clasped her hands between her own. "I'm so sorry."

"Do you –" Katherine found the words hard to say, " – regret last night?"

"No," Anne said slowly. "It was beautiful."

"It really was," Katherine agreed.

They sat in silence for a while. Katherine tried to bring some sense into her mixed emotions. She had known since she first met Mrs. Wright that her night with Anne had been a fleeting mirage, too good to last. The bad news of this Gilbert Blythe had only confirmed it. Part of her wanted to resent Anne for having these other people in her life. She could feel it bubbling up inside her, but for once refused to give in to the feeling. She had so few good memories, she was not willing to poison one of them with hatred.

"What can I say?" Anne begged to know.

"To me or to Gilbert?"

"I can't speak with him. How could I? He's engaged, and all I can think of to say..."

"You could say, 'I love you,'" Katherine said, staring out through the window. "'I ask nothing of you, except that you know that my life is better for having you in it.'"

"Is that not offensive?" Anne asked.

"Is it to you?"

Anne started, and then kissed Katherine's cheek. "Dearest Katherine, I have mistreated you."

"Perhaps," Katherine admitted wryly. "But you stopped me from mistreating myself. That's very valuable to me."

"It was a great gift to me too," Anne said, her tear-stained face lighting up in an impish smile.

Katherine moved even closer, leaning her forehead against Anne's. "I will have that Boston marriage," she said. "Or a regular marriage, or a trip to the Taj Mahal, or something of all the things the world has to offer. I will not lock myself into that drab, bitter room ever again, and _you_, Anne Shirley, will not let me. Because I will want to. I know myself. I'll be frightened, and angry, and want to go back to what I know and what's easy. Swear to stop me when I do."

Anne's smile widened, a most beautiful sight. "Katherine Brooke," she said, raising her chin, "I solemnly swear."


End file.
